


Darker Grows the Valley

by a_big_apple



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alkahestry, Cliffhangers, Intrigue, M/M, Reverse Big Bang Challenge, Terrorism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-11
Updated: 2013-03-11
Packaged: 2018-08-09 03:28:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7784956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_big_apple/pseuds/a_big_apple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for fmabigbang 2013, which was a Reverse Big Bang!  I was lucky enough to get to write a story for  bob_fish's <a href="http://bob-fish.livejournal.com/86282.html">awesome piece of artwork</a> (though the text, in the end, doesn't exactly match the image), and she was lovely enough to do an extra illo once I'd written a bit.</p><p>Roy and Ed go on vacation to Rush Valley.  Fighting, explosions, and kidnapping ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Darker Grows the Valley

_Darker grows the valley, more and more forgetting:  
So were it with me if forgetting could be willed.  
Tell the grassy hollow that holds the bubbling well-spring,  
Tell it to forget the source that keeps it filled.  
\- George Meredith, “Love in the Valley”_  
  
  
***  
  
  
"A vacation."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"A real, actual vacation. Not the kind where you take a bunch of days off and promise me we're going to spend them fucking on every surface in the house, but actually two days in you put _clothes_ on and invite Hawkeye over for _tea_ and she just _happens_ to bring some reports you might like to keep up on and then you _read_ them as if I'm not laying in our bed buck naked and waiting for you?"  
  
"...Yes. I was thinking we might even travel somewhere, away from all that dastardly running-the-country business that keeps me from properly worshipping your still-youthful and virile body--"  
  
"Damn straight. And what do you mean, 'still youthful?' You're the old bastard in this relationship."  
  
"--for example, Rush Valley."  
  
"Rush Valley?"  
  
"This came in the post today."  
  
"From Winry. You opened my mail? Because it was from Winry?"  
  
"It was addressed to both of us."  
  
"She's just being polite, it's a letter for me."  
  
"Actually, it's a letter inviting us to the grand opening celebration of Rockbell Automail's new location."  
  
Ed blinks up at him from his place at the kitchen table, mug of coffee halfway to his mouth, then peers more closely at the letter. The frowning way he squints causes a pang of affection in Roy's chest; he thinks perhaps Ed will need reading glasses in the not-so-distant future, and that image makes his chest ache again, plus a sliver of heat slide into his belly. Ed with glasses, reading the paper at breakfast, writing essays on alchemy at his desk by the sunny study window, sucking Roy's cock in his easy chair by the fire and having to pause to push them back up his nose--  
  
"Roy."  
  
Roy shakes himself out of the fantasy and turns his eyes to his scowling, suspicious husband. "Edward. You can't possibly think I wouldn't want to attend this occasion? Miss Rockbell and I had a talk years ago, we're all sorted now, and I think we should support her business endeavor."  
  
Ed's eyebrow climbs up into his bangs. "You had a _talk_? Is that a nice way of saying you fought for my hand in marriage?"  
  
"Arm wrestled."  
  
Ed's eyebrow is in danger of leaping off the top of his face entirely. "And you _won_?"  
  
Roy tries to be offended, but only manages to grin instead. "No. But you made it rather moot when you proposed."  
  
The corner of Ed's mouth flickers up in a stifled smile. "Figures. I'm always the one who has to do all the work."  
  
  
***  
  
  
Roy arranges a full two weeks off. _We won't be able to do things like this so easily when I'm Fuhrer_ , he thinks as he files the approved leave request, Grumman's enthusiastic _"Give him a flourish for me, young man!"_ penned into the comments. He decides not to show that to Ed--it will only fuel the fire of his 'being a dirty old man should not be a requirement of Fuhrership' rant.  
  
Roy also, because Ed couldn't possibly care less, deals with their lodgings. After so many years mostly on the road, his husband can sleep just about anywhere, and has no appreciation for details like high-threadcount linens on the bed or Aerugan-grown coffee versus Amestrian blends. Roy, however, has tastes, and believes a vacation should meet a certain minimum of luxury. Otherwise, what's the point? So he books them a street-facing room in an establishment that appears (after a series of investigative telephone calls, made from work to avoid Edward's inevitable disparaging mumbles of "fussy bastard" and "who the fuck cares how wide the tub is in the en suite bathroom, you're not gonna fuck me in a hotel bathtub again, remember the tailbone incident") to suit his needs.  
  
Packing for the journey is a joint affair, fraught with good-natured and less good-natured arguing. Ed hates having his automail ogled and prodded by strangers on the street, and Roy doesn't much like it either, but they both know how short his fuse becomes when faced with blazing sun and heat. In the end it's Roy's idea to alter the weave of Ed's button-downs, making them lighter and more breathable, and while Ed is busy seizing the idea and clapping himself silly over his trousers and undershirts and everything else, Roy sneaks a few of his favorite gaudy tropical-print shirts into the bottom of his suitcase. There's nothing better for a hot climate, and the faces Ed makes when forced to be seen with Roy in vacation wear are priceless.  
  
At last they are on a train headed south, their luggage stowed, Ed sprawled across the seat in their compartment like a happy cat. "I miss riding on trains sometimes," he says, peering out of the bottom of the window, too lazy to sit up and look properly. "I miss travel."  
  
Roy grins at him. "I miss getting your nasty phone calls and horrifically messy reports from the field."  
  
Ed's eyes slide over to him. "Really?"  
  
"They were often the highlight of my day."  
  
A pleased smile flickers across Ed's face before he can stop it. "You sap." He looks out at the passing landscape again. "It would be harder to travel now."  
  
Roy raises an eyebrow. "Surely you aren't implying that you're too old for adventures."  
  
"Fuck off, of course not!" Ed blusters, and the tips of his ears go red. "It would be harder to leave you behind."  
  
Delighted, Roy slumps down in his seat and stretches his foot across to nudge Ed fondly with the toe of his shoe. Ed's flesh hand slides around his ankle, stroking the bone through his sock. "It's okay with me, if you want to be on the road a bit," Roy murmurs, watching his husband's somber face. "Though of course I would miss you awfully. I'm sure your brother would love see more of you."  
  
"Xing's too fucking hot," Ed replies, but squeezes Roy's leg in a silent thank you.  
  
A few hundred miles later, Ed is snoring lightly with his head propped against the window, and Roy reaches into his pocket for the note he stashed there.  
  


 

_OFFICE OF THE FUHRER  
Central Headquarters Suite C8  
Central City 473837_

  
_17 June 1929_

  
_MEMORANDUM FOR:  
General Roy Mustang, Director, State Alchemist Program  
  
SUBJECT: VACATION REQUEST MUSTANG, ROY GEN.  
  
General Mustang,  
Several reports have crossed my desk regarding a possible rogue alchemist in the Southern region, enough to warrant taking investigative action. Your recent vacation request was well-timed. I would greatly appreciate it if you and, should you choose to engage him as a consultant, former State Alchemist Edward Elric, would look into the matter. A Fuhrer's work is never done, nor is a General's.  
  
The reports vary wildly, with one exception--they each describe what I can only interpret as some form of long-range alchemy, unlike what Amestris' alchemists are generally taught. I suspect you would know better than most what distance alchemy implies. I have enlisted the additional help of a consultant whose alchemical specialties will be of particular use to you in this investigation; he will rendezvous with you in Rush Valley.  
Caution and subtlety are of the utmost importance--we don't need any international incidents on our hands._  
  


 

_Maximilian Grumman  
Fuhrer and Chancellor of Amestris  
Commander in Chief of the Amestrian Military and State Alchemist Force_

  
  
***  
  
  
"Where did you put the 18-gauge nerve cables?"  
  
"I didn't unpack the nerve cables."  
  
"Who unpacked the nerve cables?"  
  
"I thought you did!"  
  
"Augh!" Winry throws her hands up, shaking her fists at the ceiling. "I can't work like this!"  
  
There’s a snort of laughter behind her, and Winry sags, turning to face her frustratingly calm and collected assistant.  
  
"Why are you freaking out? We just moved into the place two days ago, it takes some time to get organized."  
  
"Yeah. You're right, I know you're right," Winry admits, blowing out the rest of her tension on a long forceful breath. "I just keep feeling like we'll never be ready for the grand opening."  
  
"We'll be ready! We've got the rest of today and all of tomorrow, and you can put Ed to work when he gets here, he knows his way around an automail shop enough to be a help."  
  
"I can't just put Ed to work, he's coming here on vacation, with his _husband_ \--"  
  
"Winry Rockbell." Her assistant shifts, cocking one hip out, and rests a fist on it. "You are _not_ freaking out about _Ed_."  
  
Winry scowls, then sinks onto a stool by the cluttered worktable. "No. Not really."  
  
"You know what you need?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"You need to get laid," Paninya tells her with a wicked grin. Winry chucks a tech manual at her.  
  
  
***  
  
  
Ed forgot what the sun was like. Rush Valley isn't even that far south of Central--not nearly as far south as Dublith, but at least Dublith had trees for shade, and green things, and an occasional breeze. Rush Valley is as close to a desert as Ed is likely to get without another trip to the Xerxes ruins, and really he'd rather never set foot there again.  
  
He's sweating the moment he steps off the train, and his hair goes instantly limp and sticks to the back of his neck. Roy, on the other hand, looks completely put together (if really fucking stupid) in his tropical shirt and sunglasses. Roy smiles at Ed over the tops of his shades, that smarmy Schadenfreude smile like Ed's discomfort is endearing. "Let's go to the hotel first," he suggests, hefting his suitcase.  
  
"Only if I can take a cool bath while we're there," Ed mutters, and slings his duffel bag over one shoulder. Roy's eyes glitter at him, and he flushes. "Get your brain out of the gutter, it's too hot."  
  
  
***  
  
  
"I thought you said...it was too hot," Roy pants, fingers pressing ten bruising points into Ed's hips.  
  
"Shut up and--ah, _fuck_ \--shut up and splash me again," Ed snaps back, his bangs falling into his face.  
  
Roy flexes one hand, stiff with gripping Ed so hard, and fishes out the cup he swiped from the bathroom counter. He fills it from the tepid water that churns around them with every bounce of Ed's body on his cock, then lifts the cup and tips the water out over Ed's chest. Ed throws his head back with an absolutely obscene moan, the sound of it making Roy's heart stutter in his chest and his balls draw up tight. He fills the cup again and pours a cool stream over Ed's penis, achingly red and curved up into the air between them, and Ed cries out again, high and surprised.  
  
" _Fuck_ , fuck, Roy! Touch me, you asshole!"  
  
Roy doesn't point out that he is in fact _more_ than touching Ed's asshole--even the thought of what's happening down there between his legs will make him come much too soon--so he just obeys, wrapping a hand firmly around the organ straining toward him. Ed growls, the sound rumbling in his chest, and the animal tone of it is almost enough to send Roy off right there. He thinks of alchemy formulas, counts the tiles on the wall behind Ed's head, but gets distracted by the wet blond ponytail swinging pendulously, marking the time of their thrusts, and follows this to Ed's tensed shoulders and the bob of his Adam's apple and the teeth that are pressing hard into his bottom lip. His pulls on Ed's cock speed unconsciously, slick with water and precome.  
  
He is transfixed for what seems like an endless, time-stopped moment as Ed spasms around him, a whine sliding out from between clenched teeth as he comes scalding over Roy's hand. He shudders fiercely as Roy strokes him through it, and Roy is riveted by his screwed shut eyes, by the flushed dots of his cheeks. Ed groans softly and shakes his head, like a dog shaking off water, then opens his eyes to slits, gold irises and wide dark pupils fixing on Roy. Slowly he begins to move again, rolling his hips in long, deep strokes. "Come on, Roy," he coaxes, sliding his automail hand up Roy's stomach and his chest, tweaking lightly at a nipple. "I wanna feel it, come on ..."  
  
Roy, delighted to fulfill his wedding vows in moments like this, obeys.  
  
  
***  
  
  
Clean and refreshed, they make their way down to the lobby of the little hotel (more a bed and breakfast: quite charming really, if Roy does say so himself). There's a sullen-looking twenty-something behind the desk, and he calls out to them as they pass.  
  
"Elric-Mustang, right?"  
  
"Yes, that's right," Roy replies, and the boy holds up a folded note.  
  
"Message for you."  
  
Roy retrieves it while Ed stands by the door looking impatient and surly, and flips it open.  
  
_Rendezvous Rockbell Automail  
5 July  
4pm_  
  
The clock behind the desk says 3:48; just enough time, then. Roy tucks the note into his breast pocket, slips the scowling youth a folded bill for his trouble, and turns to his own scowling not-so-youth-anymore glaring at him from the doorway. "What's it say?"  
  
"Just a line from Havoc, reminding me to check in when we've safely arrived. I'll call them tonight. Let's go say hello to Miss Rockbell, shall we?"  
  
  
***  
  
  
It takes a few knocks for Winry to tear herself away from the knee joint on the table in front of her and register the sound at the door. “Paninya! Can you get that?”  
  
A harder knock.  
  
“Paninya?”  
  
Silence.  
  
_Right. She went to pick up the drinks for tomorrow._  
  
Another strident knock.  
  
“Coming, coming!”  
  
Setting the joint and her tools aside, Winry strips off her grease-stained gloves and strides through the workshop and the waiting room to the front door. “Coming!”  
  
With a click she undoes the latch and opens the door to peek out. “Hello? OH!”  
  
  
***  
  
  
It's a shortish walk from the hotel to the address listed on their invitation, and Ed is clearly feeling better as the heat of midday eases, because he lets Roy link their arms together with no complaints. Winry's new shop is down a side street on the outskirts of the main automail drag, and Ed keeps his right hand in his pocket and his sleeves rolled down as they stroll past the larger workshops. It works; in spite of the bustle of automail users and engineers, back and forth between supply shops and workshops and the little open-air watering holes in between, nobody stops them to--  
  
"Edward! Oh, Edward, is that you?"  
  
\--ogle. Ed spins, twisting Roy around with him, a grin on his face. "Garfiel!"  
  
"Edward! Look at you, all covered up, you must be roasting!" And in moments Roy's view is filled with a chest broad enough to give Alex Armstrong a run for his money, and wrapped up along with his husband in a remarkably similar squeezing embrace. "And General Mustang! Don't you look handsome in civilian wear! Are you boys here for the grand opening?"  
  
From somewhere beside him, Ed's muffled voice pipes up in answer. "Yep, Roy took some time off."  
  
"How lovely!"  
  
Then the ground is firmly beneath Roy's feet again, and he tries to straighten his shirt without being too noticeable. "Well, I thought it was about time for a little getaway." Garfiel nods sagely and winks.  
  
"Nothing better for a young couple than a little getaway! But you absolutely can _not_ keep this little stud--" he coos, sliding an arm around Ed's shoulders "--and his _gorgeous_ automail all to yourself the whole time. Come on into the shop and have some lemonade before you go down to Winry's, give her a little more time to get things together." Ed, being gently but inexorably herded off the street by Garfiel's massive arm, shoots Roy a helpless look over his shoulder, and Roy has no choice but to stifle his laugh and follow.  
  
  
***  
  
  
Several blissfully cool lemonades later, Ed has consented to shed his button-down and roll up his pant leg, and sits sprawled somewhat indecently in a chair while Garfiel oohs and ahhs over the details of Winry's latest work. "It was a wedding present, technically," Ed confides. "Lighter weight, more efficient, all that, but with extra waterproofing and anti-corrosive treatments."  
  
"Of course, you had a beach honeymoon, didn't you! I begged to see these pieces in progress, but that Winry's awfully stubborn."  
  
"Tell me about it! You didn't have to grow up with her."  
  
Roy slips his watch out of his pocket, peeking quickly at the time. 3:57. He stands and stretches, pulling his shirt straight, and clears his throat. "Well, if you gentlemen don't mind, I think I'll pop out and pick up a gift for her. Can't show up empty-handed to a grand opening!" He smiles the very best of his arsenal of Ed-deceiving casual smiles. "Any suggestions?"  
  
"A few months back she said something about an ergonomic micro torque wrench in a letter," Ed offers, but his expression is searching. Roy ramps up the wattage a jot on the smile.  
  
"Oh! I know just the one, at Carlino Supply! It's just two streets from Winry's shop."  
  
"Perfect. Ed, why don't you meet me over at Winry's in half an hour or so?"  
  
"Sure..." comes the reply, accompanied by a raised eyebrow, but it's clear Ed is too comfortable in the cool inside air with a lemonade in his hand to follow up.  
  
Perfect.  
  
  
***  
  
  
Picking up the wrench is the work of a few minutes; alibi in hand, Roy makes his way the two blocks to Rockbell Automail only four minutes behind the rendezvous time. There's nobody in evidence on the quiet street, and after a few moments of waiting, it becomes clear that his contact isn't going to materialize out of a shadowed doorway or an alley. The suspicion Roy has been harboring since the Fuhrer's memo crossed his desk seems even more likely.  
  
He raps a knuckle lightly on the door. "Anyone home?"  
  
A muffled but familiar voice inside calls "I'll get it, Winry!" and the door swings wide to reveal a sunny grin. "You're a little late, General."  
  
Roy chuckles. "Your brother isn't exactly simple to slip away from, Alphonse."  
  
Al steps back to let him inside, clapping him on the shoulder in welcome. "If anyone can do it well, it's you. Come on, Winry says she has beer in the fridge, and we have some things to discuss. How long do you think we have?"  
  
"Twenty minutes, give or take." Roy follows Al through the waiting room of the shop, taking in the comfortable furniture and the bookcase in the corner. It's friendly, homey--much like what he remembers of the original shop back in Resembool. There's a comforting air to the place, as soothing as it can be in the face of the pain and trauma that will bring automail customers in. Roy tries not to think too hard about that in relation to Ed, but still feels a painful stab of gratitude that his husband had Winry and Pinako to see him through.  
  
The train of thought passes as he steps through into the back of the shop, and it becomes clear immediately why Winry settled for a location off the beaten path. To the left, a bay of windows extends down a long hall, and the evening sun slants in to make patterns on the floor. To the right, they pass a small consulting room with an office tucked into the far side, then what must be the workshop, because he can hear the clinking of tools through the closed door. Further on, at the very back of the building, a small and sparkling operating room sits darkened and waiting.  
  
Al knocks on the closed workshop door and pushes it open without waiting for an answer, and the room inside is even larger than Roy had guessed; the majority of it is taken up with orderly rows of hanging parts and sample pieces, carefully labelled drawers for cables and small parts, racks of tools, and two long worktables dotted with in-progress limbs. It's at one of these tables that Winry sits, goggles pushed up onto her forehead when she turns to them.  
  
"Roy! Welcome," Winry greets him, warm but reserved, and pulls her work gloves off to shake his hand. "Where's Ed?"  
  
"Being ogled by Garfiel." Al snorts and Winry rolls her eyes, but there's a proud tilt to her smile. "He'll be along in a little while."  
  
"Well, help yourself to something to drink, if you like," Winry offers, and gestures to the little mini-kitchen setup in the corner of the workshop. "I just want to get a little bit more done on this knee before I take a break, if you don't mind."  
  
"Not at all," Roy replies, resisting the urge to glance over at Alphonse. "I'm looking forward to hearing some stories about Xing."  
  
As he crosses to the little refrigerator in the kitchen area, Al grins. "I've certainly got plenty of those! Drink before we go, Roy?"  
  
"Whatever you're having, thank you."  
  
Al pulls two dark brown bottles from the fridge door and a foil-covered plate that he holds behind his back, nudging the door closed again with his foot. Roy glances at Winry; she's already got her goggles back on and has turned back to the knee joint. "Go on ahead, I'll be right there," she tells them absently, already re-absorbed in her work. Roy follows Al from the room, hearing the hiss of the blowtorch come on behind them as they go.  
  
  
***  
  
  
"I haven't seen any written reports," Al tells him in the privacy of the consulting room, "just got an urgent telegram from Fuhrer Grumman that my expertise was needed to deal with a rogue alchemist, and to report to you here in Rush Valley. I'm hoping you got a little bit more than that." He grins, and Roy gives a bemused shake of his head.  
  
"Not very much more, I'm afraid, but I can tell you why he wanted you particularly."  
  
"Alkahestry," Alphonse says with an unhappy twist of his mouth, and Roy nods.  
  
"I looked into the actual reports before we left; the common element seems to be alchemical reactions happening with no alchemist, in fact no one at all, in physical contact or proximity. Two of the five reports had accompanying photographs of circles; in the other three instances, any circles there might have been were destroyed beyond use by the force of the reactions."  
  
Al frowns. "And what _were_ the reactions?"  
  
"Explosions," Roy replies, and Al's frown deepens. "Alchemical bombings."  
  
"Terrorism?"  
  
With a sigh, Roy peels back the foil on the plate from the fridge, revealing an appealing array of cheese cubes. Choosing one at random, he takes a bite and considers his answer. "Possibly," he allows at last. "The targets of the explosions don't seem to be linked. One involved a parked car, two more caused rockslides and road blockages in the canyon system. Another blew the side off an abandoned building, and another felled a rather large and old tree. No one was injured in any of the explosions. They almost seem like … tests."  
  
"Huh. Could be a bomber perfecting the circle, or could just be someone trying to learn alkahestry and not doing very well," Al replies with a little smile, but his eyes are serious. "You said you have photos of two of the circles?"  
  
"Back at the hotel."  
  
Al nods. "Bring them tomorrow, if you can. Seeing them will go a long way to figuring out what they're really supposed to do." Roy pops the other half of his cheese cube in his mouth just as a knock sounds at the door, and Al leaps to his feet. "I'll get it!" he whispers, "I want to surprise him!"  
  
Roy dutifully follows a few feet behind, leaning in the doorway between the hall and the waiting room as Al bounds to the door and throws it open.  
  
"Hi, Brother!" he shouts, and Ed stares at him, startled.  
  
"Al!" His face splits into a grin, and a moment later the brothers crash together in an embrace so fierce Roy can almost hear their ribs creaking.  
  
"Missed you," Al murmurs, muffled, and Ed laughs.  
  
"Missed you too."  
  
  
***  
  
  
The end of the night finds them in Winry's flat above the shop, down two bottles of wine (which Paninya brought back with her and which she promised to replace before the grand opening party) and a small fleet of local beers. Al and Ed are draped over each other on the sofa in the way only reunited Elric brothers can be, giggling helplessly at nothing. Paninya is sprawled in an easy chair, snoring softly; Winry just yawns and sets aside her new torque wrench, caressing it absently as she rises to collect the empties. Roy stands to help her, and she flashes him a quiet smile. "Thanks."

"We did rather deplete your supplies for the opening, it's the least I can do."  
  
Winry dismisses this idea with a lazy wave of her hand. "I can get more. You only have your best friends over for a grand opening pre-party once, right?"  
  
Roy chuckles, then glances back out to the living room, where Ed's head is hanging from one arm of the couch and Al's from the other, both more than halfway asleep. "I'd better get him back to the hotel before he settles in. Is Alphonse staying with you?"  
  
"Yeah. I'll just throw a blanket on him, he'll be fine." She pauses, brushing some crumbs from the kitchen counter and tossing them into the trash. "So, what did Al want to talk to you about?"  
  
Roy blames the momentary look of surprise that he feels cross his face on the wine. "Nothing particularly. Just updating me on his last visit to the Emperor. Our ambassador to Xing is quite good at her job, but the Elric charm can cut through a lot of red tape."  
  
"Hah, yeah, Elric charm. They do kinda throw it around, don't they." Winry scrubs a hand through her hair. "I just really hope this vacation you're taking is actually a vacation."  
  
Roy's too tired to come up with a reassuring lie, and there's not much point trying to dissemble anyway--Winry has lived in Rush Valley for years, she's certainly heard some version of the stories crossing Grumman's desk--so Roy just lets it lie and walks to the sofa to pull Ed to his feet. "Come on," he murmurs, and Ed giggles and wraps an arm around his waist. "Time for bed."  
  
"Hell _yeah_ it's time for bed," Ed replies, in a slightly slurred version of his sexy voice, and Roy hears Winry snort a laugh behind them.  
  
Roy sighs. "Elric charm."  
  
  
***  
  
  
Roy wakes to a mouth full of cotton and a faceful of blonde hair. It's not an unpleasant way to start the day, or even an unusual one, so he takes a moment to just enjoy the weight of Ed draped over him and the humid puffs of breath against his collarbone. Still, the slant of the sun through the window tells him it's past time they start their day, and the sweet lazy awakening is dampened a little by the niggling guilt of his secret task. Wary of Ed's possible hangover, he traces patterns over his back and his side in an effort to wake him gently.  
  
Roy has progressed to scraping lightly with his fingernails, writing "wake up" over and over from Ed's ribs down to one firm cheek by the time his husband shifts and grunts out a question.  
  
"Good morning," Roy murmurs into his hair.  
  
"Mmrphng," Ed replies. "Gffee."  
  
"You have to let me up first, then I'll get you some coffee."  
  
"Rrghd." Ed rolls languidly off of Roy and sprawls on his back, stretching; Roy swings his legs out of bed and onto the plush carpet, digging his toes in with a smile. Coffee for Ed, then a shower, then a careful tucking away of the crime scene photos, such as they are, into his clothing while Ed takes his turn in the bathroom. It'll be simple. Roy hates how simple it'll be.  
  
Still, he's in it now, and Ed is still groaning for his coffee, so Roy gets to his feet and starts.  
  
  
***  
  
  
"Oooookay," Ed drawls as he throws open the front door at Rockbell Automail. "I'm caffeinated up to my eyeballs, and I'm ready to work. Put me where you want me."  
  
Winry, Paninya and Al look up from where they're sprawled in the waiting room chairs, and Al grins and flexes a bicep. "I've already been put to work, Brother, everything's ready for this afternoon."  
  
"What you _can_ do that Al can't, though," Winry just about trills, "is help me test my new toy." She pulls the torque wrench from the pocket of her overalls and waves it, grinning.  
  
Ed wilts, hanging his head for a moment, then expels a deep sigh.  
  
"Pleeeeease?" Winry wheedles. "I want to show Paninya how to make joint tension adjustments, your elbow will be a perfect example."  
  
"Yeah, Ed, pleeeeeease?" Paninya echoes, her puppy dog eyes rendered somewhat ineffective by the wicked curve of her mouth. “I can’t learn adjustments on my own legs, the angle’s awkward.”  
  
Roy lays a hand comfortingly against the back of Ed's neck, gives it a gentle squeeze. "It _is_ in the interest of furthering automail science."  
  
"Fine, fine!" Ed throws up his hands in submission. "But furthering automail science my ass."  
  
Paninya snags a piece of cheese from one of the trays on the table and pops it absently in her mouth. "Dominic made an automail ass for a guy once. Well, half of one."  
  
Winry's whole face lights, and Ed points a stern finger at her. "NO."  
  
  
***  
  
  
When they're alone in the consulting room again, Roy pulls the photos from an alchemy-made inside pocket of his shirt and passes them over. There are several views of each of the two circles, and Al spreads them out on the table to consider them. Roy has already looked them over and drawn a few (very few, if he's honest) conclusions. He hasn't studied much alkahestry, instead relying on Alphonse and others like him for information as needed. He regrets it a bit now; the circles are familiar enough to be identifiable as some branch of alchemy, but the internal construction is utter nonsense to him, like trying to read in a language that uses a different alphabet. He can almost see words, phrases, but their meaning and how they connect to each other is beyond his understanding.  
  
So instead, he watches Al's face, following the little twitches of his eyebrows and his mouth as he studies the photographs. Alphonse has extremely motile and telling features, and human expressions are something Roy can read, very well indeed. The slight crease of Al's forehead and the motion of his jaw (biting the side of his tongue with his teeth, indicating concentration) tells Roy that the circles aren't giving up their secrets as easily as they might have hoped.  
  
"There's something familiar about the style," Al murmurs, smoothing a thumb lightly over one of the close-up shots. "This combination right here, connecting wind to the earth forces in this way, it's unusual, but I feel like I've seen it before. It would be more common to connect the earth forces to water energy, easier to manipulate."  
  
Roy only vaguely follows this, but nods encouragingly.  
  
Al taps a photo of the other circle, frowning more deeply. "But this here...see the slight wavering of the lines? The connection between elements is...uncertain, or...well, it won't hold up. Alkahestry is for healing, for manipulating the flow of good energy. It can be used defensively, as you've seen, but it's much easier if the intent is good." Al looks up then, his mouth quirking up a little. "Mei and I argue about it whenever we see each other, but I've been formulating a theory that the flow of the Dragon's Breath is affected not necessarily by the skill of the alkahestrist manipulating it, but by the intentions, by the flow of breath in the alkahestrist's body. Positive flow, positive intentions, will produce a better reaction in something like a healing circle, or a defensive circle like what Mei used to throw around in the fight with the homunculi."  
  
"And negative intentions?"  
  
"Ah," Al says with a worried sort of smile. "You follow. Negative intentions in a healing or defensive circle would, generally, make the reaction weaker. As I said, alkahestry is a positive, extremely peaceful art. It's not really meant to be weaponized the way our alchemy is. But these circles are just a little bit off; the connections are sort of...warped, twisted a little."  
  
Roy studies the photos again. What Al's saying makes sense, even to an eye untrained in this particular art, and Roy doesn't much like where the explanation seems to be leading. "Purposefully twisted."  
  
Al nods. "I suspect so. Circles like these would be considered impaired, incorrect, by the average alkahestrist. Sloppy, and not conducive to healing. But if it's carefully done, impairing the positive connections in the circle could produce a destructive reaction. More so when controlled by an alkahestrist with destructive intent. But that still doesn't explain why the _style_ of it is so familiar--"  
  
The doorbell interrupts him with an insistent buzz, just the sort of thing for pulling Winry out of work or sleep for an after-hours emergency, and immediately Ed's uneven footsteps can be heard jogging down the hall from the workshop to answer it. Roy sweeps a hand across the table, gathering the photos into a hasty clump and tucking them back into his shirt just as Ed pokes his head through the door.  
  
"What are you guys doing in here?"  
  
"Oh, nothing, Brother, nothing, just, just--"  
  
"Playing cards," Roy replies smoothly, and smiles. "I suspected Winry might steal you away for a while, I came prepared."  
  
Ed snorts, shaking his head. "A deck of cards in your shirt? I should have known you weren't actually planning on lifting a finger to get ready for this party. Lazy old man."  
  
"You've got me," Roy answers, and Al laughs, hardly sounding nervous at all.  
  
The bell buzzes again, and Ed disappears; a moment later they hear the front double doors swinging open and Garfiel announcing himself in an excited falsetto. Winry and Paninya pass the door as Roy and Al are getting to their feet, and more voices arriving at the door make it clear the grand opening is kicking off.  
  
"Don't look so guilty," Roy murmurs to Al as they slip out of the consulting room.  
  
"I wish you'd just tell him."  
  
Roy looks down at his hands and discovers he's fiddling with his wedding ring; firmly he slides them in his pockets instead. "I will. After the party. Let him have some fun first, before the fight we're sure to have."  
  
Al sighs and makes his way into the boisterous party crowd, and When Ed catches his eye and beckons with a grin, Roy follows.  
  
  
***  
  
  
The party passes in a blur of faces and steel limbs and drinks; Winry has a horde of faithful customers from her years at Garfiel's shop, and more still who come yearly or more from Resembool and the surrounding countryside to seek out a Rockbell now that Pinako is retired. It's not so much a business-building open house as a shopwarming, full of boisterous company, yarn-telling and arm wrestling. It's as if the riotous main street of Rush Valley has packed itself and its natives into Rockbell Automail's waiting room.  
  
Edward and Alphonse, after a few drinks, are easily convinced to tell stories of their travels together and apart; they hold court in a corner of the room, squashed together in the same armchair, until it's past dinnertime and their audience has dwindled down to just Garfiel and Paninya. Winry, who has heard all of their stories enough times already, is slumped in another chair with a pleased grin on her face.  
  
"--and then Al, Al says--"  
  
" _You_ said it, Brother, you're such a liar--"  
  
"-- _someone_ said 'Oh yeah? Well you cheat at cards!' The look on her face after that!"  
  
Al dissolves into giggles, and Garfiel points to Paninya. "You want someone who cheats at cards, this one is infamous for it! Don't ever play poker with her, boys, trust me."  
  
"I bet I could beat her," Ed scoffs, slurring his words just a little. "Roy! Roy, don't you think so?"  
  
Roy sets down his glass of wine (he's not sure what number he's on, but Ed's tired, tipsy voice is making him very pleasantly warm). "You have no poker face to speak of, my dear."  
  
"Fuck," Ed replies, "you're supposed to support me." He levers himself out of the chair and clumps over to Roy's, plopping down in his lap with a careless thud. Luckily, Roy is used to such treatment.  
  
"Ah, and here I thought husbands should be honest with each other."  
  
Ed snorts, but the way he's caressing Roy's chest takes the sting out of it. "My poker face is just fine."  
  
Caressing his chest _inside_ his shirt, which is a bit forward to be doing in company...  
  
"I'll prove it."  
  
Too late, Roy realizes just what Ed has in mind.  
  
"Wha' the fuck kinda playing cards are--"  
  
For a long moment, Ed stares at the photos in his hand. Roy can hear his own heart pounding in his ears, but the room is otherwise utterly silent, and Ed's body, previously slouching comfortably against Roy, straightens and stiffens and pulls away.  
  
"What the fuck is this." He flips through the photos one by one until something he sees makes him pause. "This is Rush Valley," he says, voice flat, and gets to his feet. He holds the photo out to Roy. "I know this canyon. It's not far from here." He meets Roy's eyes, mouth pressed into a line, waiting for an answer.  
  
"Yes," Roy admits. It would be foolish to dissemble now.  
  
"This is why we're on vacation, isn't it."  
  
Roy realizes he's gripping the arm of the chair so hard the upholstery is creaking, and forces himself to relax. "Not initially."  
  
Ed nods. "Ah, so just an added bonus, I get it. A little mission to keep you busy when you get bored."  
  
There's no right answer now; time for full disclosure. "An assignment from the Fuhrer."  
  
"Oh, of course! I should have known! The first real vacation you've had with your husband since our honeymoon _eight years ago_ doesn't rank quite as high as climbing another rung up the political ladder. Is that why Al is here? Did you invite him to keep me _busy_ ," Ed hisses, throwing the photos to the floor, "while you run errands for Grumman?"  
  
"Brother, Roy didn't--"  
  
" _Shut up_ , Al." Ed pins his brother with a fierce look, then turns to the door. "Don't follow me, Roy. And don't bother coming back to the hotel tonight."  
  
A few stiff-backed steps and Ed's gone into the slanting evening light outside. Roy closes his eyes and tries to breathe through the sharp constriction in his chest.  
  
Al gets to his feet and gives Roy's shoulder a brief squeeze as he passes. "I'll go after him."  
  
Roy drops his face into his hands in the awkward silence of the room. He only vaguely hears Garfiel excuse himself and Paninya make her way upstairs into Winry's apartment; he's too busy trying to figure out what he's going to say to fix this one when Ed lets him out of the proverbial doghouse. When he scrapes his fingers hard through his hair and looks up quite a while later, Winry is sitting in the easy chair opposite, watching him. She's playing with the ergonomic torque wrench in one hand, testing its weight.  
  
"I thought as much," she finally says, "when I started hearing the stories about the alchemy explosions."  
  
"I was going to bring him in on it. I wanted him to enjoy the party first."  
  
"Thoughtful of you," Winry says, sounding tired. "You really are an idiot sometimes."  
  
"Yeah," he replies, closing his eyes again. "I know."  
  
  
***

"Brother! Brooother! ED!" Al hurries after the stiff-shouldered figure striding down the street in the dim evening. "Brother, please wait!"  
  
Ed doesn't even flinch; he turns down a side street, and Al jogs after him. "Where are you going? I thought your hotel was the other direction."  
  
"I'm not going to the hotel," Ed snaps without pausing or turning around. He turns down another, quieter side street; there are fewer lamps here, and not a soul out and about.  
  
Coming even with his brother, Al matches his stride to Ed's. "Where are you going, then?"  
  
"Did you know about this?" Ed doesn't look at him, just keeps his eyes fixed straight ahead as they walk, his face flushed red with temper.  
  
"Sort of, but--"  
  
Ed's clap is the only warning Al gets before the sidewalk rears up to block his path; he's just quick enough to keep from slamming right into it face-first, and he transmutes it back into the ground a moment later. It was a token effort. Ed is clearly focused on what's ahead of him--an empty little corner park with a few clusters of trees, and blocked off haphazardly with ropes. Al can't quite figure out why it looks familiar, until they get a bit closer and he can see a torn-up crater in the earth. In the photos, the uprooted tree had still been sticking out of it; it's since been cleared away, and the circle carved into the grass at its base has been hastily trisected with shovels, presumably to keep anyone from setting it off again.  
  
Ed ducks in under the ropes, standing just at the edge of the sliced-up circle and peering down at it. "So this is what we all came out here for. Wish I'd known that to start with."  
  
"Ed," Al sighed. "I didn't know about the vacation thing. I got an urgent message from Fuhrer Grumman asking me to report to Roy in Rush Valley."  
  
"I'm not really mad at you. I'm fucking pissed at Roy."  
  
"I know." Al lays his hands on the rope blocking off the explosion site, more to have something to hold than anything else. "He … well, it was stupid not to tell you, but...I don't think he knew about the rogue until after he'd booked the trip--"  
  
"Don't defend him," Ed snaps. "Just leave it. We'll sort it out."  
  
"All right."  
  
They spend a few moments not looking at each other, and so looking at what remains of the transmutation circle.  
  
"Alkahestry?" Ed asks.  
  
"Seems to be. Might be an experiment, might be some kind of protest or act of terrorism, we're not sure."  
  
"These connections are--"  
  
"Yeah, I noticed that too. Does the style of it look...familiar to you at all?"  
  
Ed's brow furrows as he contemplates. "No...it's pretty unusual, right? This bit here--"  
  
"I've seen that done somewhere before, but I can't place it."  
  
Ed crouches down to get a better look, tracing a bit of the circle with his finger, and Al ducks under the rope barrier to catch his sleeve.  
  
"Don't touch it," he says quickly, and Ed finally looks at him, bafflement on his face.  
  
"Al, it's incomplete. It can't activate like this."  
  
"A good alkahestrist doesn't need the complete circle, just the important bits. Especially to make things--"  
  
It happens so fast Al can't even see it, just the before--Ed crouching over the circle, starting to rise back up again--and the after--a deafening _CRACK_ , a shockwave that knocks him back over the rope barrier, a flash that momentarily blinds him. There's a whine like feedback in his ears, and his limbs won't cooperate; blinking away the spots of light in his vision, he catches a glimpse of Ed, limp as a doll in the grass a number of feet away and frighteningly still. Then a shadow looms over him, lifts him up, and his head swims horribly before giving up and turning everything to black.  
  
  
***  
  
  
Roy is just beginning to resign himself to a night in the easy chair when he hears the _CRACK_. It could be thunder, at a distance, but Roy has been to war, and he knows the sound of an explosion.  
  
Two pairs of feet come crashing down the stairs from the flat above and hurry along the hall. Winry and Paninya appear in the waiting room doorway a moment later, both wide-eyed.  
  
"Ed?"  
  
"Or the rogue," Roy says, and saying it aloud makes his chest constrict with sudden fear. He bends to sweep the discarded photographs up off the floor; on top is a shot of the circle that knocked down an old eucalyptus tree in a local park. It's the one Ed recognized.  
  
"That's not far," Paninya says, looking from Winry to Roy. They're all three of them on the street and running without another word.  
  
  
***  
  
  
Al wakes with a fiercely throbbing head, bouncing upside-down along the edge of a canyon.  
  
It's so unexpected that he screws his eyes shut and opens them again. The view hasn't changed; the canyon yawns wide beneath him as he bumps along, slung over the shoulder of someone small but clearly quite strong. He has to close his eyes again against a wave of nausea, and tries to catalog any damage to his limbs while he waits for the world to stop spinning so horribly.  
  
His hands are bound at the wrist, quite tightly, but awkwardly twisted to face back to back--so no clapping. His legs are bound as well, at the ankle and again at the knee. Clearly his captor is taking no chances.  
  
They're moving along at quite a speed, considering the difficulty of some of the passages through the canyon system. Alphonse forces his eyes open again, trying to get his bearings, remember the route they take, or even get a glimpse of his captor. He's getting a glimpse of the backs of his captor's knees, at any rate, and of nimble feet navigating the shockingly narrow ledge. Nimble feet wearing ... Xingese boots, the sort the Imperial Guards wear?  
  
It _was_ alkahestry, then, and this must be the alkahestrist. Well. Al's no slouch; he won't be able to fight and win in his condition in this landscape, but he can leave breadcrumbs. The path is so narrow that some part of his body is constantly being jostled into or scraped along the canyon wall. Everywhere he touches, he tugs on the Dragon's Pulse, leaving spots of energy and little oddities in the rock face. He doesn't worry about form; Ed will follow whatever clues he finds. The key is to do it gently, quietly, beneath the sensitivity of his captor. He's succeeding so far. Either that, or his captor is so certain of the outcome that Al's efforts aren't worth stopping.  
  
Al fervently hopes for the former.  
  
  
***  
  
  
Paninya is quickest and knows the way, so she leads them through quiet little streets farther and farther from the main drag. They round a corner, and she comes up short; Roy sees the debris, dirt and splinters of wood and lamp glass in a startling blast radius.  
  
Feet from the blast, just within the glow of an undamaged lamppost, Ed is lying on the ground.  
  
Roy is getting closer without consciously moving. He stumbles in a hole, gets tripped up in a frayed rope, falls to his knees beside Ed and pushes his hair back, trying to see his face.  
  
"Ed. Ed. Edward. Answer me."  
  
Roy gets a groan in response, and a flutter of eyelids. The ice that was in his chest cracks wide open, and he slumps, pressing his face to his husband's face and _breathing_.  
  
"Whr's Al?" Ed mumbles, his nose pressing into Roy's cheek like he's trying to burrow.  
  
"No sign of him," Winry says from somewhere near. "Does anything hurt?"  
  
"Head," Ed moans. "Not bad. I'm okay." He shifts around as if to get to his feet, and Roy can't have that happening yet, so he pulls him hard against his chest instead.  
  
"What happened?" He asks into Ed's hair, and Ed's arms slink around him.  
  
"Circle went off. If Al's gone, must mean he's been taken."  
  
"But taken where? By who?" Paninya asks. Nobody answers.  
  
Ed butts his forehead into Roy's chest. "This is your fault. Don't think I'm letting you off the hook."  
  
"I know," Roy murmurs, squeezing him closer.  
  
  
***  
  
  
Hanging upside-down the whole way deep into the canyons has made Al quite loopy; he registers both relief and nausea when he's set down on sun-warmed stone, and tries to sit up properly. It's rather difficult, and he certainly doesn't get any help from his captor. He tries to get his bearings; they've stopped at the mouth of a little cave, a natural feature rather than a transmuted one, in the rocky cliff face. A swift glance around also reveals Al's hostile traveling companion.  
  
He's rather surprised to discover that the rogue alchemist wears shoes very like those of the Xingese Imperial Guards because he, or she, _is_ a Xingese Imperial Guard.  
  
From behind, it's no one Al recognizes, but a glimpse of the mask will tell him quite a bit--he's made a study of them, during his many stays in the Imperial Palace. If the guard would just turn toward him a little ...  
  
Alphonse gets his wish a moment later, and is surprised again--the guard's mask is entirely black. It's unheard of to wear a mask with no decoration, no clan-specific design elements...  
  
"I have given up my warrior face," the guard says, seeming to read his mind. A male voice, Al thinks, which is at least a step in the direction of identifying him. "This task has no honor in it."  
  
"What is your task, then?" Al asks, trying to sound unaffected.  
  
The guard cocks his head, nonchalant. "Killing you, Alphonse Elric."  
  
Before Al can properly process this answer, the guard drags him deeper into the cave by the collar of his shirt. A flash and crackle of transmutation, and the cave mouth is sealed, leaving Alphonse alone in total darkness.  
  
"Well," he says to the empty space, "that's not good."  
  
  
***  
  
  
Even in the little side-streets of Rush Valley, when something explodes, someone calls the police. When Roy can bear to let Ed out of his arms, he takes charge of the scene; it's doubtful that the local constabulary force will be able to help them track the rogue alchemist, but he knows it's a good idea to control the story. Every few minutes he glances over at Ed, though, sitting on a bench wrapped in a blanket that one of the curious neighbors brought over for him. With Winry on one side and Paninya on the other, he's certainly in no danger. Still, it seems prudent to check. Often.  
  
Ed is terse when he gives his statement, clearly anxious to be off in search of his brother, but not knowing where to begin. Paninya moves over to make room for Roy when the scene is finally cleared, and Ed holds a hand out to him expectantly. When Roy just looks at him quizzically, Ed sighs. "The photos."  
  
"Ah." Roy pulls them from his shirt pocket and hands them over. Ed flips through them again, one by one.  
  
"Where would this asshole have taken him? Were you having any luck with the investigation before this afternoon?"  
  
"Not much, I'm afraid. All we have are the photos and a few reports from the local police and the nearest military investigators. When they couldn't understand the alchemy involved, Grumman sent for your brother."  
  
"So how the hell are we going to find him?!" Ed exclaims, clenching the photos and crinkling them in his fist. Roy grips Ed's flesh hand tightly, thankful that he can, even though their fight is only postponed.  
  
Before he can think of something, anything to say, the debris on the ground begin to glow, and then to spark--and then to move.  
  
  
***  
  
  
It takes all his energy to do it. Toppled over with his cheek pressed to the cool stone floor, Al closes his eyes and tries to focus. Reaching for the Dragon's Pulse is second nature to him now, and it isn't even that difficult to follow the veins of it below the surface, through rock and earth and up to Rush Valley's streets, to locate his brother. Ed is a bright spot, golden, radiating qi; Roy sitting beside him is deeper, redder, but still easy to find. They're still in the park, and Ed seems unhurt. Its such a relief that all Al can do is lay there and breathe for a moment, letting his brother's energy touch his own.  
  
He can't rest for long, though; the cave is totally sealed. Long before Al runs out of food or water, he'll run out of air. He has to give Ed a shove in the right direction, get him and Roy here to deal with the guard whose presence he can feel just outside, waiting for him to die. So he focuses on the area around Ed and Roy; Winry and Paninya are still there, and if he concentrates enough, he can feel even the little bit of energy in the debris strewn around them from the blast. If he can nudge things just the right way...  
  
  
***  
  
  
Eventually, the eerie motion of debris on the ground stops. The final effect is a single word.  
  
"Canyon," Winry reads, baffled and nervous.  
  
Paninya has pulled her feet up onto the bench, out of the way. "What the fuck."  
  
"It's Al," Ed breathes. "It has to be. They're in the canyons somewhere." He looks up, the fire sparking in his eyes. "What's the closest canyon path to here?"  
  
"There are two," Paninya says, frowning. "They both go pretty deep in, but one's easier than the other."  
  
"We'll take the harder path," Roy says. "An alchemist has less to fear from narrow ledges, and it would cut off pursuit by non-alchemists."  
  
"Are you sure you're up for that?" Winry asks, though by the look on her face, she's expecting the glare Ed gives her. "All right," she concedes quickly. "Paninya and I will take the other path, just in case."  
  
"Come on!" Paninya leaps to her feet. "This way."  
  
  
***  
  
  
Roy is beginning to wonder why he thought the harder path was a good idea. Paninya's nimble as a goat, and Winry's feet are at least a little daintier than Roy's. Hell, in places what passes for a path is just some wooden planks set into the rock face, with lengths of heavy chain bolted into the rocks as a hand hold. Alchemy could make a wider path, but they would risk the structural integrity of the whole rock face. The wind blows his hair into his eyes and whips Ed's ponytail around like a flag at the top of a flagpole, but Ed doesn't seem to have any qualms at all, so Roy can only follow.

"We're on the right track!" Ed suddenly yells as the boards give way to an actual rock ledge. "Look!"  
  
Roy inches closer; where Ed points, he can faintly see what looks like a smiley face transmuted into the stone. A smiley face with a familiar, jagged mouth and a point on the top of its not-really-circular head.  
  
"It's Al!" Ed tells him with a grin. Roy raises an eloquent eyebrow, and Ed rolls his eyes. "The armor?"  
  
"Ah," Roy replies, though he doesn't really see it. "A good sign, then!"  
  
"Exactly." Ed grins wider, and sets off along the edge again.  
  
  
***  
  
  
"There's a little cave," Paninya muses as they slide carefully down a steep decline. She reaches up, and Winry takes her hand to steady herself.  
  
"Big enough to hide out in?"  
  
"Yep." The ground beneath them levels out a bit, but Winry keeps hold of Paninya's hand. "For the short term, anyway. Roy and Ed will go right past it. We'll come on it from above, on this path."  
  
Winry considers this as they walk. "Will Ed and Roy be visible? Will this alchemist see them coming?"  
  
"Not until they're pretty close … but it could be tricky. The path's real narrow there." Paninya squeezes her hand tightly, leading her down another decline. "But Roy's smart, and Ed's a little fireball--they'll be fine. We just gotta get to Al, make sure he's okay, right?"  
  
"Right," Winry answers, trying to believe it.  
  
  
***  
  
  
It's soothing to follow Ed's progress, closer and closer, his Pulse brighter and brighter. Al's head is still pounding sickeningly, his hands and feet are going numb from lack of blood, and every breath gets shallower. Still, he tells himself it's almost over; any minute Ed and Roy will round the bend in the path that brings them in sight of the cave mouth. They'll fight, and certainly they'll win, and Al will be able to take a deep breath again.  
  
He thinks that if he could see anything in the black cave interior, he's be seeing spots. He can still remember, a bit, what it was like to not need air at all, or food, or rest. He thinks very hard about that for a little while, until a shout filters through the stone from outside, and the cracking and rumbling of alchemic earth-moving begins.  
  
  
***  
  
  
The fighting echoes a long way in the canyons, and Winry and Paninya are still a distance off. Hands still linked tightly, Paninya speeds up along the path, leading Winry to the steadiest route. Finally they come to the cliff edge where, not ten feet below, Ed and Roy are engaged in furious combat with a black-clad assailant.  
  
"We can climb down. I'll go first, guide you to the footholds," Paninya whispers, though with all the alchemy going on below, Winry doubts they'd hear if she shouted. Then, catlike, Paninya disappears over the edge. "The cave mouth is sealed up," she reports as Winry cautiously lowers herself down, toes of her boots catching in crevices so slight she wonders how Paninya managed them so quickly.  
  
"With Al inside?"  
  
"Don't see him out here, must be. Easy there, little farther to the left … that's it. You can jump from there, I'll catch you."  
  
"Jump, are you kidding?"  
  
"Just trust me, the fight's coming back this way, you have to get off the cliff face!"  
  
Winry squeezes her eyes shut. "I don't like this!" Still, there's nothing for it but to give a little backward hop and trust, and after a fall not quite as long as she imagined, she's got both feet on the ground again and Paninya steadying her. When she turns to take stock, the scene is startling: all three combatants move almost faster than she can track, fighting with alchemy and a few blades as well. The landscape has been rather recklessly transmuted this way and that, full of tall columns that Ed and the rogue leap to and fro on, and a flat shelf just past the mouth of the cave from which Roy is hurling flaming projectiles.  
  
Telltale imperfections in the wall that now covers the mouth of the cave give it away--Winry knows alchemy when she sees it by now--and she presses her hands to it, trying to think. "Is there a back way in?"  
  
"No," Paninya replies, standing close beside her with one eye on the battle. "It's not very big."  
  
Winry looks over at her, fighting down sudden icy dread. "So he won't have much air in there."  
  
"Shit."  
  
"Your upgrade," Winry urges, but Paninya shakes her head.  
  
"That could cause a huge rock slide, we'd all be crushed. Look at all the screwing around Ed's done with this rock already, a blast might be the last straw!"  
  
"He'll suffocate in there if we don't! Who knows how much air he has left, we can't wait for them to stop screwing around and come make a hole in the wall! We have to try it."  
  
Paninya is scowling now, but with a heavy sigh she begins rolling up her pant leg. She cuffs it tightly at the thigh, and goes down on the other knee to brace herself. "Alphonse, if you can hear me, _get away from the cave mouth!_ " With a whir and a series of clicks (Winry can't help but note that the mechanism sounds exactly the way it should, like a dream), the kneecap slides back and the barrel of what can only be described as a miniature grenade launcher telescopes forward, aimed squarely at the transmuted cave door.  
  
"FIRE IN THE HOLE!"  
  
  
***  
  
  
The blast is a surprise--Roy didn't know Paninya was packing that kind of firepower--and it nearly knocks him off his feet.  
  
Luckily, it does a number on the alchemical constructs littering their battlefield as well. The improvised columns of rock aren't meant to last, just to give Ed height and distance in a fight. As the structures knock into each other and cacophonously break apart, their enemy loses his footing for just a moment.  
  
A moment is all Edward Elric ever needs. He darts across the wildly teetering columns and, in a quick swipe of the steel blade of his arm, slices the eerie black mask from the rogue's face. He darts away, but not before Roy catches sight of his face.  
  
And he thought this trip couldn't get any more surprising.  
  
  
***  
  
  
Al is knocked ass over tea kettle for the second time today, and the cave is filled with smoke and dust and _air,_ sweet, sweet air. He breathes it in deep, then coughs it up again, but that's all right, because it's still there when he tries for more.  
  
Winry's there a moment later, sawing at his bonds with a pocket knife she's pulled from...well, it's unclear where she was keeping it, and Al doesn't think he really wants to know. The earth beneath him is still rumbling, shuddering; the Dragon's Pulse is arcing all around, agitated by movement in structures that should be solid.  
  
"It's collapsing," he coughs out to Winry, in the same moment that the ropes at his wrists give way. Al presses himself to the cave floor and reaches once more, with all the energy he has left, for the Pulse.  
  
  
***  
  
  
"Ed! _It's collapsing!_ Winry screams, and feels the earth shudder beneath her. Out in the canyon, she sees Ed turn, panic in his face, and behind him, the maskless rogue leaps down into the chaos of the falling structures and disappears from sight. Ed makes a leap for the ledge, slips when a chunk of rock crumbles away under his boot, throws a hand out wildly.  
  
Roy catches it.  
  
It all happens too fast for Winry to even scream--then Ed and Roy both are racing toward them, and they clap in sync.  
  
  
***  
  
  
The moment the cliff face is stable, Ed crouches by his brother, hands fluttering around him in a panic only Al in trouble can produce. "Are you okay? Al? Tell me you're okay!"  
  
Alphonse groans, clearly exhausted, and flops onto his back. "I'm okay. The rogue?"  
  
"Got away. Was he really--"  
  
"An Imperial Guard? Yeah."  
  
"Imperial Guard?" Paninya asks, looking baffled.  
  
"The Xingese Emperor's most trusted warriors," Roy explains, scrubbing a hand over his face. "In theory."  
  
Al props himself up on his elbows, grimacing. "I didn't get a look at his face."  
  
"We did," Ed replies, tugging his brother up the rest of the way to sitting. "Fat lot of good it does us, the only Guard I know is Lan Fan."  
  
"Actually," Roy says with a sigh, "I did recognize him. His name is Wei Jin."  
  
Al sucks in a breath so fast he nearly chokes on it. "What?" he gets out around the coughing. "Wei Jin is the Amestrian Ambassador's personal bodyguard!"  
  
"And there's been no mention in any of her recent reports that her bodyguard went missing," Roy adds. The identical looks of dawning comprehension on both Elric's faces would make Roy laugh, in any other circumstance.  
  
"So, this whole rogue alchemy thing," Ed murmurs.  
  
Al nods. "A trap. Seems like the goal was to lure me out of Xing and get rid of me without linking it back to Ambassador Cutter."  
  
"But..." Winry murmurs, shocked, " _why_?"  
  
The question hangs for a long moment, until Paninya huffs out an aggravated breath. "Can we figure out all the secret government plots _after_ we get the hell out of the canyon?"  
  
  
***  
  
  
The next morning dawns bright and sunny, and Roy is awakened far earlier than he'd like by a sunbeam spearing directly into his eyes. He moans and buries his face in Ed's hair, and Ed snuffles and kicks him in the shin with his automail foot. That's when Roy remembers that, technically, they're still fighting. Still, a sleepy Ed is generally a forgiving Ed, and Roy attempts to snuggle closer in spite of the threat of dangerous metal limbs and the bruising they inevitably cause.  
  
At which point there's an insistent knock on the door.  
  
"Gogetit," Ed slurs, shoving Roy toward the edge of the bed. Roy sighs deeply, resigns himself to an early morning after all, and pulls on his robe to stumble to the door.  
  
The sullen teenaged boy from the front desk is on the other side, holding out a slip of paper. "Urgent telegram for General Mustang," he says, or more like sneers, and Roy snatches it out of his hands.  
  
"Thank you." Roy closes the door with a sharp click. That boy's idea of service doesn't warrant a tip at this time of the morning.  
  
Ed is propped up on his pillow now, blinking blearily at him. "What's it say?"  
  
Roy sinks onto the bed beside him. "It's from the Fuhrer."  
  
"Already? You only just called him last night, that was barely six hours ago."  
  
Roy shoots Ed a sideways grin. "The old man's pretty quick when he wants to be. I've got new orders."  
  
Ed scowls. "You gonna tell me what they are this time?"  
  
"Well, I rather think you'll want to come along," Roy replies. "I'm to leave next week on a diplomatic visit to the Emperor of Xing."  
  
Ed considers this, his eyes lighting, then reaches over Roy to the bedside phone. "Hey, Winry? Yeah, I looked at the clock. Put Al on. Al! Pack your crap. We're going to Ling's."


End file.
